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The whiskey was warm. He didn’t care. Whiskey was whiskey.
It burned his throat as he swallowed it. A dry, slow burning. He didn’t care.
The glass made a low thud as it hit the oak of the counter; droplets of whiskey splashing against the surface and dripping off the edges. The bottle-once full-was now half empty, standing to the corner of his eyes.
It wasn’t a very expensive whiskey. Cheap stuff. You could buy it from the local liquor store just off the highway. That’s what he liked about it.
Whiskey was whiskey, after all.
The bar scene was empty. An hour had gone by after the evening crowds rolled in. He could not recall the time they had come in, or when they had left. The only evidence of more life mingling about the bar were a few smoking cigarettes shoved into an ashtray and a tipped over barstool laying out of place in a corner just past the basement door.
The after-show of the big game was still on the TV. Albeit sometimes jumbled and fuzzy. Words slurring back and forth into new words or sometimes new alien languages. The TV was old. Bartender lugged it in from his basement and decided to let it gather dust up here. He always said they should fix it, but money was tight and expenses were…well….
He never finished the thought. His head hurt-a symphonious sound of drums only that he could hear playing low in his temple. His palms grew sweaty, fumbling with a page of the newspaper left on the counter. He shivered, blown by an invisible chill. His eyes glanced around the small radius of which they were accustomed.
Palms drenched in perspiration, he picked up the glass bottle, eyeing the light brown whiskey ripple inside. He tipped the bottle; the whiskey splashing into the shot glass.
With his trembling hands, he raised the glass to his dry lips and quickly drank down the liquid. The burning he had become used to by now.
As the feeling of pain rolled away, he glanced slowly around the bar, feeling nauseas with every light swing.
The bar was, or course, empty. Well, except for him and the bartender, who was busy taking stock of the bottles left in the little overhead racks holding the drinks.
The bartender was new. At least, to him it seemed. The other bartender-the one who poured the whiskey with some dry joke or stocked the bottles with some look of grimace on his old tired face- was gone. Vacation, he had heard from talk around the other bar-flies.
He liked the old bartender. The guy was old, about 60 or something. He wore the same clothing day in and day out. An old white shirt and a pair of beat-up overalls which he wore under a brown coat. He was a tall guy, skinny like a neck of a bottle of beer. The old guy would let him in, get some drinks and stumble back to his dorm.
Sure, the old guy had seeing problems. Made it easy for a minor like him to sneak in. He was 18, all he had to do was simply not shave for about a few days and he could pass for 21. The ID he made off a buddy who lived out back the Macy’s downtown in a van. Weird guy, but the deals were good and he got money and he got drinks.
Win-win, he thought.
But, all of that aside, this new bartender seemed more….upbeat. A young guy, about 23 or so. Nice combed-back blond hair, tall, skinny and wearing a bright white apron he had found in the closet. Whistled as he poured and whistled as he took stock.
Why someone would be so cheerful serving drinks to some bums with spare change, he would never know.
Feeling the throbbing come back, he reached for his glass; delicately picking it up as he tilted the bottle. A small stream of whiskey, just enough to form more than a puddle at the bottom of the glass, spilled out.
Great. Another dry-one.
He looked over at the barkeep. Still whistling cheerfully as he wrote numbers down on a stained notepad. Time to get him to do his job.
“Bar….barkeep!” He shouted, words slurring slowly from his mouth. “More….more…god….juice this way!”
The barkeep turned around. Rather than storm over and stick a bony figure in his chest and bark some stupid rule out before kicking him to the curb, he simply smiled and put the notepad down.
“Right away!”
He grabbed a large bottle of bourbon, strutting over with it. “Made in Smith’s Grove, Kentucky. Black Dog Bourbon. For those with a Bite” he said, proudly reading the label.
Now, quite frankly he couldn’t care less what the name of this stuff was, all he wanted to know that it would be in his glass or else this barkeep would lose some of those pearly-whites of his.
The barkeep opened the bottle, spilling the contents into the glass. He poured a small amount into it. Small, but enough.
“Be careful, man” The barkeep said, taking out a dirty green rag and wiped down the counter. “Strong stuff”
You shot him a glare, slugging down the drink.
Strong stuff. Burned more than the whiskey that was for true.
The barkeep stares at the counter, wiping it down in slow and easy motions. He seems to be rambling an old folk song under his breath, tapping his finger along the metal bar of the counter in rhythm.
The TV above the barkeep’s head had switched to an advertising channel. One of those channels playing nothing but advertisements and whatnot to the tune of odd, yet familiar-sounding music. They were selling old phones just down past the college. The music was an orchestra beat, echoing loudly through the empty room. A slow scene of a 1986 desk phone revolving around on a platform was shown, extra parts laid aside it.
The barkeep reached up, turned the TV down a bit and looked up at you. He had a warm smile on his face, bright brown eyes as large as the rim of the glass stared at you.
“So…” He said in a cheerful tone, yet sounding questioning. “What’s your story?”
“Story?”
“Yes. Why are you here?”
“Why are you here?” That sounded like a stupid question. To drink. A man doesn’t drink alone happy. He doesn’t drink alone with a smile.
He drinks to forget. He drinks to numb. He drinks to instill a memory to replace many more.
But it never works. If it did, he wouldn’t be here right now. He would be asleep in his dorm or…or…maybe…
No. They won’t. Not after what happened. And that was why he was here so often. Drink down the memory.
But, as said, it never worked. All he needed though was more bourbon. It would work in time.
“Uh….just here to get away…”
The barkeep seemed puzzled. His cheerful expression turned into a confused stare. “Get away from what?”
Quick. Think of something fast.
“Uh…life, you know. Real busy out there”
“Rat race, huh?”
He faked a smile, sipping down the bourbon. “Yeah…”
The bartender nodded and turned the TV back up, going back to his repetitive chore. The TV was now playing an advertisement for horse figurines. Old silver statues of horses in glass cases stood where the phones once stood. A sound of church organ music accompanied the advertisement.
“Where are you from?” The bartender said, resting a shoulder on the counter.
“Wh…what is this? Twenty Questions…?” He slurred, drops of bourbon spilling from his lips.
“Where are you from?” The barkeep asked again, cheerful yet firm.
“Uh….let’s just say out-of-town…that’s all”
“Really?” The bartender tapped the counter with his ring finger, almost thinking he was being lied to.
He shrugged, sipping down his drink. “Say, what’s my tab?”
“Tab? Oh!” The barkeep pulled a list out of his pocket, along with a small pocket calculator. He wrote something down, other hand tapping out equations on the calculator’s dull colored screen. He stopped short, staring at the number he had formed.
“How long have you been coming here?”
“What do you mean?”
“How long have you come here? This bar?”
“Oh….uh…see…maybe once or twice a weekend…”
“Says here you owe…uh…let’s see…about $346.00 of expenses….adding the tax…”
“Whoa!” he slammed the empty glass on the table. “I just said to add up tonight’s tab, buddy. Not all the interest…”
The bartender simply stared. “What is the date today, man?”
“Uh….jeez, I dunno….May 31st…”
He nodded slowly, as if proving his point. “End of the month…time to call in…a reckoning, I guess”
“Listen…listen….I just need some more time….” He said, fumbling for an explanation or some kind of excuse. “I have no money on me at the moment and…”
“Do you have a job?”
He sighed, slumping forward on the table. “No….never needed one…”
“Why?”
“Uh….well, let’s just say I had some “cushion” to help me”
“Cushion?”
“You know…money. Big amount too. A few thousand…”
“Few thousand?”
“Yeah….heh…”
“Where is all that money?”
“Gone. Spent it”
“On what?”
He didn’t like the bartender’s tone. Nor did he like the way he was pestering him for information. Normally, and the bar being this empty, he would have slugged the bartender off his feet. But, tonight…well…he just couldn’t move.
“Stuff…”
“What kind of stuff?” The bartender retracted on his question. “My apologies for being so picky. How did you get all this money in the first place?”
“Man…listen, I don’t want to talk about it…”
“If you don’t. I am afraid I will cut you off…police would not be too happy seeing someone like you out in the middle of the night..”
He grimaced at the bartender with a cold stare.  Either this or take the night bus back home.
“Okay….well….my old man’s dad…”
“Your grandfather, I presume?”
“Yes. See, he was a big guy up on the corporate chain…Vice President, I think. He died back about 5 years ago. Heart attack, was it? Maybe it was a stroke…”
The bartender nodded his head, listening to every word. The TV was off now, leaving the only source of sound in the dead empty bar was the man’s slurring mouth.
“When he kicked the bucket, he left my old man roughly….maybe…ten thousand dollars in his will. He was his only son and guess he wanted him to be happy….”
“How was your father?”
“Eh. Strict, for a better word. Never let me do anything. No parties with friends. No hanging out after 10….man, he was a….”
The barkeep stopped him. “Just continue on…”
“Where was I…?” He paused trying to piece the memory together. Like a jigsaw puzzle of words constantly rearranging themselves in his head.
“Oh yeah….my dad knew we were going to college soon and gave us a cut each to get started….me, my brother and my oldest sister.”
“Your siblings? Where are they?” he put emphasizes on the word “they”, as if joking at him. Saying, for a better term, “you lonely old drunk”.
“Oh, my brother went off to Computer College or something. Always loved electronics. When we were younger, I was 16 and he was 18, he spent all this time in the attic of our garage. Empty place before he stocked it with old computer monitors and circuits and transistors. He built a weird little computer or something once. Didn’t too much, just slid a punch card in through a little slot and the computer would read it out. But he thought it was impressive. And so did the Board of Administrations.”
“Where is your brother?”
“Back home in New York, from what I hear. Studying transistor-based circuitry or whatever. Forgot his number back home. He won’t help me either besides.”
Your sister?”
“My sister was…well…an artist, sort to speak.”
“An artist? Oh, did she paint murals or just sketch?”
“None of them. She did “installations”.
“Installations?”
“Yeah, that art that-her words, not mine- “defined dimension and space to broaden the narrowing perception of man and art”. Well, she made this…uh…sculpture out of old steel wire and some of my brother’s old wiring systems”
“What was it?”
“I have no idea…” He sipped more down, no longer caring to use the glass of which his hands had held for so long. “This geometric structure that always seemed to change before your eyes. One moment you are staring through it, move a bit to your left and you are staring below it…weird stuff. She actually made some money making them, did you know?”
He set the bottle down on the counter, shaking his head. “Went somewhere down in Pennsylvania. For art or something. I think she is in a band too…would have went to see her, but…”
He closed his eyes and took a deep exhale, casting a smell of liquor and cigarette smoke waft from his maw.
“I went out here, looking for a college on…er…well, whatever I liked I would choose…”
“Free-thinker, huh?”
“I guess…” his eyes rolled back and forth as he spoke. “Had a ton of money and nothing to do with it…”
“Which brings me back to the question at hand…” The bartender said. “What happened?”
“Met a couple of guys off the campus. Drove around in a beat-up Volkswagen bus. Covered in graffiti and rusted from the headlights to the trunk. I met one during a walk around campus. Man, was he nuts! Had sunglasses on with spikey messed-up hair and was swigging old Jack Daniels from a flask. Don’t know how, but we started talking and…”
“And what?”
“Things were alright. Went to bars, got drunk off of cheap swill, spend the summer nights driving around the city like a group of drifters. No purpose. No idea. Just the road.” He said, almost fashioning it into a poem.
“Then, the trouble started. Those guys got a little too “extravagant”. Nothing like drugs or illegal stuff. Just began running up tabs. One time, we ran up a tab of over 600 dollars in one night…heh….but I always bailed the tabs out. Slid a little interest to cover up tracks if we needed to”
He got real quiet for a minute, eyeing the glass and bottle as if they were temptations. “My old man found out from some old swill-jockey in a dive bar…”
“Oh…”
“He called me back home. I drove the 2 hours back home in the old bus…wasn’t exactly a happy reunion…”
He swallowed hard and stared down at his folded hands. “I said some things in an argument….pretty rough things…got mad and smashed a hole in the wall with my fist…can’t recall the rest, guess I stormed out…”
There was an eerie pause. Tension filled the room, ready to snap at any time.
“Came back…stopped outside this bar and…well, ran up tabs. Swallowing my past with a dry future of rye and whiskey…”
“How long was this ago?”
“Give or take a year. I never called. He never did. And it stayed like that…”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Did you not call?”
“What? Call him up and try to blow over something like that? Huh, good luck with that, buddy…”
“How do you know he wouldn’t be mad?”
“I know he will be. Broke, jobless and running on booze and broken dreams. While my brother builds computers and my sister makes art…ugh…”
The bartender got up, looking at him confused. Or was it judgement. None of them lasted, as he got up and walked back to the office in the back. He returned, holding something under his arm.
“How long has it been since you went to church?”
“Jeez…I dunno. Haven’t met that old Father back home in ages…”
The barkeep nodded. “Do you know Luke 15?”
“No.”
“Ah, I see. Do you know the parable of the Prodigal Son?”
“Maybe. Jog my memory a bit...”
“Well, to sum it up in layman’s speak, it’s more or less about a son that spends his father’s estate money in wasteful ways. Drinking and whatnot. There is a famine and the kid, who lost his money, begins to starve.”
“This sounds odd…why are you telling me this?”
He ignored him. “He knows he has to go home, but fears his father will be angry when he learns what he’s been doing all these years. He goes home and learns that the old man welcomes him back and throws a feast to celebrate.”
“What? Again, why are you telling me…” His voice dropped as the words fell together.
“Ohhhh no, you won’t” he hissed coldly. “No way am I going home and facing that old nutcase. Not after what I did”
“How do you know?”
“I just…just do!” he slammed his fist down on the table. The glass clattered against the oak in an unsteady rhythm.
The barkeep sighed and opened the Bible he had tucked under his shoulder, laying it down in front of him.
“Here, man. Read it over. I won’t bother you with it anymore. Your choice, my friend”
He began to walk away, slinging the rag over his shoulder.
“Hey? Where….where are you going?”
“Back room. Call me if you need anything”
He sighed at the response. Thank God. Peace and quiet at last.
He reached for the bottle, hoping to polish off the rest. The thumping in his head was back again.
But, he couldn’t.
It was some odd feeling deep in his stomach. He looked down at the Bible, noting the stained pages and smell of beer from the covers. Opened to Luke 15…
Well, what’s the harm…?
He sighed and began to read it over. At first, the words seemed to slide together and make bizarre new phrases in some long-forgotten language. Then, it got easier. The words blended together again as normal. The haze of which he had been seeing slowly lifted.
He looked back down the counter. A small payphone was there, rigged against the wall. The back office door was open. A white apron laying on the floor. The exit door didn’t seem open. Like the guy just got up and vanished into thin air.
With a gulp of confidence and footsteps of lead, he sluggishly walked over to the payphone, fumbling for change in his pocket.
One quarter. Two quarters. Three quarters…
He held the receiver to his ear as his fingers carefully dialed the number. The numbers seemed to pop off the buttons. The ringtone was a comforting noise of endless dull beats.
In the empty bar in the empty street, the sun rose from the horizon. Streaks of red-orange lining in patterns across the mountains. The last stars faded away into the black night.
And in that empty bar that sat lonely and still under the rising sun, two soft hellos from one to another broke the silence.
The Bartender
Believ it or not, this was a short story made for a class in school. Theology. That's why it gets religious. Maybe I'll add it to my collections....
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Imagine would you kindly a place. Not just any place like a stereotypical land or plain or desert. Imagine not a simple place, but a world.

A world with a molten core surrounded by a great thick crust dotted with deep blue oceans and vast sprawling oceans, crawling with life and organisms. Imagine this world has a sun brighter than any sun you could picture and a moon of silver and grey as if crafted by the rough hands of a silversmith. Imagine this world surrounded by stars aglow, galaxies swirling to form a pattern of alien construct and the void of an inky blackness beyond our mere human grasp of our vast imaginations and ideas.

This world is much like ours, yet is somehow not. Like looking a picture taking by two different types of cameras, at two differing angles and two different dimensions. Both the same, yet amazingly different to the eye of a man. There are oceans as deep and blue as the ones we have, forests as tall and vast like the forests we have; maybe even there are jungles of steam and vine.

There is a warm blue sky and a cold black night like the ones we have lived through and seen by us within the longevity of our lives.

There are cities and towns stretching from a coast where it meets the foaming oceans to the mountains ripping tears into the grey wisps of sky and cold atmosphere. Cities with towering buildings dotted with the hum of a neon color and glowing lights of the steel streetlamps illuminating a street of people in either fancy cocktail dresses and tuxedos of fine silk or rags of leather strips and dirty shoes held by strings and cheap adhesive. Music that you can’t put your finger on echoes from somewhere in the depths of an alley or a high-rise piercing the moonlight. Maybe the music is jazz. Maybe swing. A starting piece of some classic big band or orchestra? No…but you have heard it before. Maybe it will come to you, a thought cries from your head, it will have to come to you.

This world, you are imaging using our human perception of place and sense, holds…”things”. Fantastical things. Things only a man can dredge up from the deepest lines of his imagination.

Treasures of gold and silver line the richest halls and galas of manor and mansions. Money flows throughout extravagant casinos where waitress and waiter attend to a crowded blackjack table or a bar lined with strange, exotic spirits and well-dressed, yet suspicious men grasping shot glasses or fading playing cards amid the clatter and clinking of bar glasses and that still strange music. Grand museums and galas holding art and writings from the mind of artists and scholars most brilliant.

Sports like, for say, wrestling are held in mass arenas and  concrete domes, where those who come to watch grasping the edge of their seats, eyes open and mouths agape like witnessing some unknown, alien pleasure that one imagined they simply could not imagine or those who sit in backrooms with bills and coin shoved into bulging wallets sit at tables and smoke cigars while listening to hissing radio reports of a match or event. Cathedrals made of stone and glass fill weekly with religious folk or those seeking a way to be clean of past sins, mortal or simple.

Fantastical beings roam this planet. From most curious fish-people living in a Chinatown-esque lot surrounded by high tides, docks and oceans deep and blue to even the simplest bird or snake you find in a tree or a hole in your backyard. Humans live there too, I can heavily assure of such a fact.

Science, as you know, is only limited to simple robotics or some other thought that we consider grand, is here expanded beyond our own beliefs. The sick and weak can be healed within days by extreme advances in medical sciences. The injured or the most wounded can be given a second chance by use of seemingly impossible machinery or creations that seemingly defy all things possible and impossible.

Ruling over these vast continents is a royal family, a monarchy. The most current one is a fine woman and her little sister. The older one is, and by quote, “as smart as she is beautiful” and the little sister is “as cute as she is wild”. The parents of these two, the once king and queen, are…well…passed. I wish to spare the details and I may hope you do too.

Now, and as I say this I pray that I may never speak of this as much as I have to, there are…other things, I am most afraid. As man’s imagination holds wondrous things like science and art, we also hold more.

Things that make us sick.

Things that make us whimper and shiver by simple echo or word. Those things that only that we consider the twisted scum of the earth can sit in a room laughing and howling madly at, almost like they were told some alien joke with a punchline even more twisted.

If you peel back the glamour and dazzles of a city, you find a rotten core of corruption and evils that will drive you, and God help you, into the verge of madness. As I warned, only those who can at least attempt to look at what they may find will only stutter and shiver at what their eyes will glance upon.

A war. A war unlike any war your simple human mind can hold together. Envision a world plagued by a grand war with weapons that you have never seen and bloodshed forming and breaking groups. Cities and countries become ancient memory under bombing strikes and blitzes of flame, gas and mortar round. And who, I ask to myself and you as well, that others didn't suffer the same fates?

People, my friend. The innocent, the cruel, the sick, the weak, the poor, the rich, the clean, the filthy. All killed or round up like fat cattle or skinny horses to be sold as such for money or food. Entire groups of people lost all moral or sense as the war ended in their ruined little lives. No more could you buy food from a neighbor or grocer. You got what you got through the hands of yourself or the hands of a hired man. Crime, famine and madness spread like a damned disease.

Good people, some children, butchered or captured by the power-hungry or those teetering on the verge of madness.

But out of all the sick-minded and disturbed pack of slavers and murders rose something far more greater and dangerous. The name of the group I cannot tell you as I fear mere mentioning them could lead to my or your untimely fate. They were civilized, or at least beyond the madness of others one would say and had a strong grip on most business and had folks with in and out their “services”. I hope you never find out their services firsthand.

They had major wealth and infamous glory among a population of hundreds. Good parts of a city belong to them, guarded by people who resemble those out in the slums in alleys or warehouse holding guns to your head or a knife to your throat. They even have a public entertainment sponsored by them in secret. A fair or circus or some other odd public event.

Many have lived by the name and many have died by the name. I can only ask you pray you end up the latter. If you don’t…well…I’m sure you have more pressing matters of thought, hmm?

Above it all, as even the most good folk know, something much more horrible plagues the land. An artifact from what I gathered of sorts. Said to be a cross betwixt a skull and a human heart. God (or at least Goddess from what they worship) knows what or why it is.

Rumor is that it grant wishes. Anything your heart desires brought to reality like a dream or a needless want. But, there is a catch. Only women can perform the annual ritual. And another catch, as with all things I shall say, is if your heart is foul and wretched with sin, you become something…something…unimaginable.

Imagine a monster. Now picture that monster as someone you love like a mother or aunt or sister.

Isn’t it a lovely picture? This…oddity or spawn of some grand evil…has taken hundreds of lives, innocent or foul.

They are trying to stop the cycle of new generations of this monster, of course. As you recall, they have sciences unlike anything you have dared to see. Why not use those to stop the beast? To kill it, drive needles through its heart and salt the earth where it is buried?

Government projects and groups were formed by the top scientists and leading geniuses ever known. Weapons are forged, plans are thought up and soldiers are bred to hunt and slay this ancient horror and stop the nightmare.

But, just know this world has secrets. Dark and horrible secrets. Other…things…have been seen in the streets at night, howling and screeching. People vanish weekly from clubs and churches and the bodies found mutilated and scarred as if by some great horror or lunatic. I invite you to research these, but I fear you too may become like one of…one of…them…

Now, the ritual of a seven year time has begun again. Women and other folk head to seek this new and strange artifact. Each has their own motives to drive them and fuel their desires. Some are good, some are…are…well, as stated this world has some secrets it cannot be released.

Now, I expect you my friend wish to find out what is going on too. To unearth this weird and fantastical place despite the horror and mystery that plague it. To try and carve a new life for yourself and forge a destiny and fate that you can control.
Now, before I leave you, I must part with one final answer. Where exactly is this place? What is going on? How can I locate such a place?
My dear friend, the answer lies in front of you, but you just can’t see it. Or maybe you don’t wish to see it…
…………………………………………………………………………………..
Now, I bid you good luck in your travels to the Canopy Kingdom. May you live to prosper and grow like the others.
A Traveler's Guide to the Canopy Kingdom
My second Skullgirls story! Sorry for not being active on here so much, but fear not! I will be back soon!
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How attractive you are:
[] Ew not really
[] Gross
[] Ugly
[] You're ok
[] Alright getting better
[] Cute
[] Gorgeous/beautiful
[] Hot!!! B)
[] Perfect~ 
[] I honestly don't know what you look like! :I

What we'd look like in a picture:
[] Normal
[] Holding hands
[] Pulling faces
[] Couple poses

Where I'd get your named tattooed on me:
[] My wrist
[] My leg
[] My belly
[] My back
[] My neck
[] My foot
[] My ankle


What we'd do if we lived together:
[] Party, party, party!!!
[] Eat ice cream for breakfast
[] Have pillow fights
[] Go to the bedroom~ 
[] Have movie nights 
[] Cuddle and kiss~
[] Not live together in the first place...
[] Do whatever you wanna do
[] Do stuff...

What I'd do if you snuck into my room at night:
[] Scream!
[] Tell you to get out
[] Grin mischievously
[] Watch movies with you
[] Let you stay the night 
[] Kiss/cuddle you
[] Blush
[] Attack you

What I'd do to you in the rain:
[] Push you into a puddle
[] Kiss you
[] Hold you close
[] Let you under my umbrella 
[] Give you my jacket 
[] Jump on your back
[] Run away
[] Start to sing randomly
[] Dance with you

What I'd do if I saw you naked:
[] Walk out of the room scarred for life
[] Smirk and laugh
[] Take a picture 
[] Just stand there awkwardly
[] Say, "What the hell?! Get some clothes on!"
[] Blush
[] Walk out as if nothing happened B)
[] Scare you
[] Take your clothes 
[] I'd be petrified

What I'd do if we kissed:
[] Smile and blush
[] Be surprised 
[] Push you away
[] Pull you closer
[] Bite your lip so you'd bleed 
[] Wonder if we would kiss again
[] Slap yo' face!
[] Freak out, squeal and run around
[] Off to the bedroom~

You should...
[] 1. Be my friend
[] 2. Comment to my profile more
[] 3. Watch me
[] 4. Note me
[] 5. Put this as your journal so I can comment too

Guess what, children! I am TAGGED. Better shut up and do this thing.

................................................................................................

1. You must post these rules.
2. Each person has to share 10 facts about themselves.
3. Answer the 10 questions asked by the person who tagged you and make up 10 questions for the 10 you tag.
4. Choose 10 people and put their icons in your journal.
5. Not something like "You are tagged if you read that".
6. You have to legitimately tag 10 
7. NO TAG BACKS! 
8. You can't say that you don't do tags.
9. You MUST make a journal entry!

10 FACTS.

1. I can't draw, only write.

2. My goal each day is to not flip out on someone at school or anywhere else.

3. I shave every so often.

4. I have a bunch of ideas for videogames but they get out of control at some points.

5. I'll probably want to publish my writings when I get older.

6. I have a Twitter and Tumblr so...yeah...

7.  I can only be described as this: 
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°),

8. I tend to panic over small things.

9. I go on 4chan sometimes.

10.  My real name is [DATA EXPUNGED].

.....................................................................................

No questions here because meh.

Tagged with me are "beesandbats.deviantart.com/", "waniramirez.deviantart.com/" and "infamous-toons.deviantart.com/"
How attractive you are:
[] Ew not really
[] Gross
[] Ugly
[] You're ok
[] Alright getting better
[] Cute
[] Gorgeous/beautiful
[] Hot!!! B)
[] Perfect~ 
[] I honestly don't know what you look like! :I

What we'd look like in a picture:
[] Normal
[] Holding hands
[] Pulling faces
[] Couple poses

Where I'd get your named tattooed on me:
[] My wrist
[] My leg
[] My belly
[] My back
[] My neck
[] My foot
[] My ankle


What we'd do if we lived together:
[] Party, party, party!!!
[] Eat ice cream for breakfast
[] Have pillow fights
[] Go to the bedroom~ 
[] Have movie nights 
[] Cuddle and kiss~
[] Not live together in the first place...
[] Do whatever you wanna do
[] Do stuff...

What I'd do if you snuck into my room at night:
[] Scream!
[] Tell you to get out
[] Grin mischievously
[] Watch movies with you
[] Let you stay the night 
[] Kiss/cuddle you
[] Blush
[] Attack you

What I'd do to you in the rain:
[] Push you into a puddle
[] Kiss you
[] Hold you close
[] Let you under my umbrella 
[] Give you my jacket 
[] Jump on your back
[] Run away
[] Start to sing randomly
[] Dance with you

What I'd do if I saw you naked:
[] Walk out of the room scarred for life
[] Smirk and laugh
[] Take a picture 
[] Just stand there awkwardly
[] Say, "What the hell?! Get some clothes on!"
[] Blush
[] Walk out as if nothing happened B)
[] Scare you
[] Take your clothes 
[] I'd be petrified

What I'd do if we kissed:
[] Smile and blush
[] Be surprised 
[] Push you away
[] Pull you closer
[] Bite your lip so you'd bleed 
[] Wonder if we would kiss again
[] Slap yo' face!
[] Freak out, squeal and run around
[] Off to the bedroom~

You should...
[] 1. Be my friend
[] 2. Comment to my profile more
[] 3. Watch me
[] 4. Note me
[] 5. Put this as your journal so I can comment too

deviantID

T-FighterX9's Profile Picture
T-FighterX9
Chase
Artist | Student | Literature
United States
My name is Chase and I enjoy writing stories about random crap.
Interests

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:icontannerxdelia:
TannerxDelia Featured By Owner 6 days ago  Professional Digital Artist
Hello
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:icont-fighterx9:
T-FighterX9 Featured By Owner 2 days ago  Student Writer
Hello! Apologies for being late
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:icontannerxdelia:
TannerxDelia Featured By Owner 1 day ago  Professional Digital Artist
There is a new movie from Disney and Pixar called Inside Out.
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:icont-fighterx9:
T-FighterX9 Featured By Owner 1 day ago  Student Writer
Oh! I know that
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(1 Reply)
:iconmisery-love-virgo:
Misery-Love-Virgo Featured By Owner Nov 29, 2014
I have your birthday request half completed. I'll try and finish it tomorrow.
Reply
:icont-fighterx9:
T-FighterX9 Featured By Owner Nov 29, 2014  Student Writer
Okay. I would love to see it tomorrow. Thanks!
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:iconcutie-kitty-julie:
Cutie-Kitty-Julie Featured By Owner Dec 20, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
best id ever
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:iconmisery-love-virgo:
Misery-Love-Virgo Featured By Owner Nov 18, 2013
Almost done with the chapter- won't be able to work on it till Thursday but it should be done before next monday.
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:iconmarches45:
Marches45 Featured By Owner Nov 18, 2013  Student General Artist
I can join, but not as an admin.
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:iconmisery-love-virgo:
Misery-Love-Virgo Featured By Owner Oct 13, 2013
Yo, the drawing of Jeff and DeeDee/Rose is posted :U
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